


Willing to Bet

by aloha_cowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Diners, Eileen knows, F/M, Gay Panic, M/M, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloha_cowgirl/pseuds/aloha_cowgirl
Summary: Eileen makes a bet with Sam.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 124
Collections: Demon Void Army - Family Album





	1. Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was written for the SPN Stay-at-Home challenge for the prompt "Bet."

Eileen had been working a case east of Atlanta when she got Sam’s text. He’d be passing through town with Dean and Castiel on their way back to the bunker, and in true Sam fashion, he wanted to stop and check-in, though Eileen suspected some ulterior motives. With a few ulterior motives of her own, she agreed to meet at the shabby diner on the edge of town.

“The nest seems pretty small,” she said between sips of her milkshake. “Maybe four of them, newly turned if I had to guess.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stick around?” Sam asked, ignoring the way Dean was smirking at him.

Before Eileen could answer, there was a shift in the look on Dean’s face that told her that Castiel had just come through the diner’s door. His attention had quickly gone from mocking his brother to something behind her, and his smirk had instantly transformed into a smile that reached his eyes.

Dean clapped Sam’s shoulder as he got to his feet. “I’ll, uh, give you kids some alone time.”

Eileen watched Dean retreat, catching Castiel by the arm and claiming a booth on the opposite end of the diner. She turned back to Sam with a knowing grin.

“What?” Sam asked with a shy chuckle.

 _You do know your brother is in love with Castiel, don’t you?_ she signed.

“What?? No way,” Sam said, brushing it off.

Eileen slid off her bench seat and moved to sit beside Sam. It was harder to talk this way, but here they could both watch the pair across the room. “Just watch,” she said.

Dean was talking animatedly, leaning forward laughing at something he’d said. Cas leaned forward as well, smiling fondly at Dean’s amusement. Their feet were just barely touching beneath the table and neither did more than glance upward for a moment when the waitress delivered their drinks.

“Huh.” _You really think so?_ Sam asked, signing since reading lips would be tough at this angle.

 _I’d be willing to bet_ , she answered with a wicked grin. “Give them three days alone. You’ll see.”

Sam smirked. _Does that mean I get to stay with you for three days?_

Eileen gave him a wink and nodded.

Sam turned on his seat and waited for Eileen to mirror him before reaching out to shake her hand. “It’s a bet then.”

Dean and Cas were still in their own little world when Sam approached their booth. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it sooner. It wasn’t like he didn’t see that their relationship wasn’t like other friendships—a profound bond, as Cas had once called it. But now that his blinders were off, the gleam in his brother’s eyes, the smile on the angel’s face, the way they just seemed pulled to one another… well, he felt like his well-honed investigation skills had failed him on this one.

“Hey,” Sam said when they still hadn’t noticed him standing there.

“Oh,” Dean said, finally turning around, shifting his feet away from Cas’s. “Hey. So, what’s up with the vamps?”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Castiel asked, sitting up straighter.

“You know, I think I’m gonna stick around and help Eileen out on this one,” he said suppressing a smile. “You guys can go on ahead. We’ll meet you back at the bunker in a few days.”

Dean waggled his brows. “A few days to sow the seeds of love, eh Sammy?” He glanced quickly at Castiel looking for his reaction before grinning up at his little brother.

Sam grinned right back at him. “Something like that.”

This was going to be the best bet he ever lost.


	2. Motel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Stay At Home Challenge prompt "Motel."

The road ahead was clear and dark. Sam had joined Eileen in Atlanta on a vamp-hunt, so Cas was currently settled in the passenger seat, relaxing back on the leather and contently watching the trees go by. He sometimes moved his hands together, twiddling his thumbs, interlacing his fingers and releasing them again, thumbing the edges of his fingernails. Dean had been stealing glances throughout their journey and noticed this habit of Castiel’s and wondered what would happen if he were to just grab his hand and hold it in his own… to stop the fidgeting, of course.

It was nearing midnight. Dean had driven through the night who knows how many times before, but he wasn’t in any hurry tonight. Sam wouldn’t be back for a few days, so there really wasn’t any reason to rush back to the bunker.

“Let’s stop for the night,” he finally said, carefully keeping his eyes on the asphalt. “Get some rest, breakfast in the morning and drive the rest tomorrow.”

Castiel’s brows twitched in question, but he just nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean repeated, switching lanes to take the next exit.

Ten minutes later, they were driving through a quaint little old-fashioned town, each looking out the windows in search of a motel.

“Apparently outsiders aren’t welcome in friggin’ Mayberry,” Dean grumbled as they turned onto another tree lined street.

“There’s one,” Cas said after a few more minutes of Dean’s complaints.

Sure enough, a Vacancy sign was lit in the window of an office flanked by what looked more like a cluster of tiny dollhouses than the motels they typically stayed in.

“I don’t know whether to call this place cute or creepy,” Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot.

Cas grinned. “I think it’s charming.”

Dean rolled his eyes and held back a smile as they grabbed their bags from the trunk.

“Why does that not surprise me?”

They headed inside to find that the dollhouse aesthetic carried right into the motel lobby with its deep green carpeting and flowery wallpaper. There was a grandmotherly old woman waiting at the counter with pink-framed glasses, bouffant hair, and a friendly smile.

“Welcome to the Rosemont Motel, gentlemen. My name is Marla. How can I help you? Are you here for the festival?”

Dean and Cas each looked at the other with raised brows before Dean shook his head. “Uh, no. No, we’re just passing through.”

“Oh, what a shame!” Marla waved hand toward a poster beside the desk. “The Rose Festival is this weekend and the whole town will be out. We’re nearly booked up here.” Her gleeful smile was evidence enough that the little town didn’t often get visitors.

“Not _completely_ booked, I hope,” Dean said, leaning forward with a charming smile.

Marla batted a hand toward him with a blush. “We do still have one room available.” She slid her ledger toward Dean to sign while he passed her a credit card. “I’m sure you two will be nice and cozy. Maybe you can even pass through the festival on your way out of town tomorrow.”

“I think that would be lovely,” Cas said as Dean accepted their key. Marla beamed as they bid her goodnight and left the lobby.

As expected, the room matched the rest of the place—plush pink carpet and striped wallpaper. However, what was _not_ expected was the lone queen-sized four-post bed. Dean stared at it for a moment too long before Cas stepped up beside him.

“Well, Marla said we’d be nice and cozy.”

Dean felt his ears turning red.

“Shut up, Cas.”

He dropped his bag on the end of the bed, fished out some sweats and hurried into the bathroom to shower. Once behind the closed door, he leaned forward on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

_This is what you wanted, you idiot. You wanted to stop for the night. You wanted to stretch this whole thing out... So, suck it up, dumbass. It’s all in your head._

He shook his head at his reflection and turned on the shower, not waiting for the water to warm up before stepping in.

When he came out of the bathroom, still toweling his hair, Cas was sitting on one side of the bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles and the television remote beside him. He’d changed into a t-shirt and a pair of soft flannel pants, and while that sight was enough for Dean to consider just staying awake all night, it was the television that distracted him.

“Are you—are you watching Dr. Sexy? _”_ he asked, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, one foot still on the floor, the other knee up on the bed so he could face the old tube-style television that sat on an old painted dresser. “Wait, is this in—?”

“Spanish, yes,” Cas answered. “This television doesn’t get many channels, and this was the most interesting thing on.”

“I think that TV is older than you are, buddy,” Dean said, finally sliding back on the bed to lean against the headboard beside Cas. “Wish I knew what they were saying,” he said mostly to himself.

Cas leaned a bit toward the center of the bed. “Dr. Piccolo and Dr. Sexy are arguing over the ethics of Mrs. Beale’s experimental face transplant.”

“Yeah, that Mrs. Beale seemed pretty shady.” Dean shifted on the bed to get more comfortable. If he happened to have leaned a little toward Cas, well, it was just because he was listening intently. “Ooh, what’s up with Johnny Drake?”

By the time Cas had translated the remainder of the episode, the two were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed. Cas hugged a frilly pillow to his chest while Dean had tucked his feet beneath the floral comforter. Their laughter at Dr. White walking in on Dr. Sexy and Dr. Piccolo in the on-call room (again) died down, leaving them in an awkward silence when the credits finished rolling and the screen switched to an infomercial for some miracle fix-it product. Neither had moved and it felt like tension was radiating from the spot where their arms were pressed together.

They both reached for the remote at the same time, Cas reaching it first, and Dean’s traitorous hand paused for just a millisecond too long on top of Cas’s. So, while Cas turned off the television, Dean quickly ducked under the covers, turning on his side to hide the redness that was most certainly creeping over his face right now.

When the room was covered in darkness, Dean could feel Cas shifting behind him, sliding under the blankets and arranging his pillow. He thought back to the days when Cas was a full-powered angel, when he didn’t need to eat or sleep and spent his nights watching over the Winchesters—especially Dean. Sure, it was weird back then, but when he thought about it now it almost made him smile. Cas still had days when he could get by without food or rest, but Dean knew him well enough to see that a good meal and a good night’s rest made him feel better.

Dean could feel the warmth of Cas’s back facing his own, and while distracted by his drowsy thoughts, he’d inched ever so slightly closer to the center of the bed. Cas, apparently, had done the same thing because they were suddenly pressed back to back. Both tensed momentarily, but when neither moved to recreate the space between them, they slowly relaxed, letting their weight meet in the middle as they drifted off into sleep.

Dean slept more peacefully than he had in quite a long time. The sun was fully up and streaming through the gauzy curtains by the time he groaned into consciousness.

In the night, Dean had apparently turned onto his opposite side and his face was now pressed up against the top of Cas’s head, his arms wrapped tightly around broad shoulders. Cas was nestled close, his head tucked against Dean’s chest, his hand resting on Dean’s waist. From their position, it seemed Dean had likely been the one to pull Cas close and Cas had curled right in. Their bodies fit together so well and warm that before Dean was fully awake, he kissed the top of the head he was cradling.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were wide and full of panic, realizing what he’d just done. He wanted to run from the bed, but he was currently tangled up in angel limbs, which had snaked around his waist pulling him closer in response to that little kiss on his head.

 _Shit, shit, shit!_ There was nothing that Dean could do. He and Cas were both awake, wrapped up in one another’s arms. They simultaneously moved, each retreating to his own side of the bed.

“I—I’m gonna…” Dean pointed at the bathroom, quickly grabbed his toothbrush, and hurried into the bathroom to hide for the second time since they’d arrived at this damned dollhouse motel. He turned on the tap and considered drowning himself in the sink, but settled on splashing the cold water on his face before brushing his teeth. He still had the toothbrush in his mouth when he looked up to his reflection with a panicked realization.

_Did I—Jesus, I fucking kissed him. I kissed the top of his head. What the FUCK._

When he couldn’t feasibly hide in the bathroom any longer, he ducked his head and returned to the room. Cas had already changed out of his flannel pants and was pulling on his shoes. He looked up at Dean and gave him a small unperturbed smile as though he hadn’t woken up with his face pressed against Dean’s chest not more than fifteen minutes ago.

“Should we get some breakfast?”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at himself. What was he hiding from? He hadn’t woken up with some stranger… This was _Cas_ , the angel that pulled him from Hell, the angel that watched over him as he slept, the angel that liked peanut butter and honeybees.

The angel that wrapped his arms around him tight when Dean kissed his sleepy head… The angel that maybe Dean was a little in love with.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “Breakfast. And, uh, maybe we can check out that Rose Festival before we head out.” He looked up tentatively, waiting for Castiel’s reaction.

Cas grinned. “I’d like that.”


End file.
